


Girls Can't Play

by ArdeaJestin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Making Out, Oral Sex, Quidditch, Secret Relationship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdeaJestin/pseuds/ArdeaJestin
Summary: Hogwarts, 1969. It's the end of the school year, the end of the decade, and the end of an era for Rey, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Her future is all planned out, and that future definitely doesn't include Ben Solo, who's been lording over her for years and leading Ravenclaw to victory after victory. In five days, she'll be free. But five days is a long time when you're in love with someone you hate.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 51
Kudos: 131
Collections: Anniversary Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venetum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venetum/gifts).



The air in the classroom is stifling and Rey idly fans herself with a piece of parchment, to no avail. It feels like they’ve been here for hours, though by the count of the clock on the wall, it’s only been twenty minutes. She tries to stretch her legs as much as she can without brushing against Armitage Hux, the captain and Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but thankfully he’s sitting as straight as a broom handle, his uniform perfectly pressed, as if he missed the memo that there’s only a week of school left.

“I’ve taken the request you made at the last meeting to Professor Dumbledore,” Madam Hooch says. “He understands why players might want family members to be able to attend games, and he’s suggested we start with opening the grounds for the Quidditch Cup finale next year. Anything else?”

“Friendly matches,” Rey says. “Teams should be able to organise matches outside the cup, just for fun.”

She glances to her right at Rose, the captain of the Hufflepuff team. Rey and Rose are both Chasers and get along famously. They’ve set up common practises for their respective teams and they’ve often talked about having it out just for kicks. An exasperated sigh comes from the other end of the table.

“What’s the point in that?” Ben Solo sneers with his usual haughty pout.

Rey decides to ignore him. It’s likely he’s trying to rile her up, because who could actually be against the idea? _Ben, that’s who._ She wouldn’t put it past him to want to crush the fun out of the sport; she’s never met anyone who takes Quidditch so seriously. She’s heard him before games briefing the Ravenclaw team, and it sounds more like a conference on nuclear fission than a pep talk.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t be that hard,” she continues. “I mean, if both teams are willing, we could even ask students to referee and count points.”

“And who will keep them from muddling up the score and cheating?” Ben counters.

Rey gives a disbelieving laugh. “They won’t cheat if it’s a friendly match! Come September, I’d be more than willing to -”

She stops mid-sentence because it just hits her that in September, she won’t be returning to Hogwarts. Rose will. Hux will. They still have one year left. But she and Ben are graduating, leaving, hanging up their Quidditch uniform. She feels a bit deflated. What difference will it make now, really?

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Madam Hooch says, and she’s starting to sound weary. Monthly meetings with the Quidditch captains is an off-shoot of the movement started by the prefects, who decided students should have more to say in the way the school is run. Professor Dumbledore has good-naturedly listened to every single demand they made – Rey even suspects he enjoys this bit of rebellion the winds of change have brought to Hogwarts – but the teachers have less patience than he does. “Now, if that’s all -”

“Actually,” Hux says, “I’ve mentioned this before but I don’t think I was taken very seriously. I move to reinstate the game of Creaothceann at Hogwarts.”

“Are you kidding?” Rose exclaims. “It’s incredibly dangerous! It was outlawed for being too violent.”

“No, it was outlawed because anything specifically Scottish has been methodically suppressed by British power since the 18th century.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Please, spare us the independence talk. You just want a game reserved for boys because you’re still bitter that your proposal to have separate male and female Quidditch teams was rejected.”

“That’s rich, coming from the founder of the Wise Witches Society.”

“What does that have to do with it? We need a female space to talk about things like contraceptive potions!”

“Enough!” Madam Hooch snaps. “A better use of your time would be figuring out which broom model you’ll be using with your teams next year, as the student council has deemed it an unfair advantage that some players should have expensive brooms and not others.”

As they start debating on the question, Rey lets her mind drift away and loosens her tie to undo a button on her blouse. It’s an innocent gesture, purely born from the June heat that even the old stones of the castle can’t keep at bay, but Ben catches it.

The atmosphere of the room shifts imperceptibly. Suddenly, Ben isn’t just looking her way. He’s watching her. Rey feels slow and heavy, as if an invisible burden is suddenly blanketing her, though this time it has nothing to do with the weather. She tries to avert her gaze, think of something else, anything else…

“I’m not convinced those new Nimbus brooms are reliable, I think it would be a safer bet to go with the Comet 200.”

Yes. The Comet 200. Released in 1965, when she was starting her fourth year at Hogwarts…

Ben leans back on his chair, his mouth still in a pout, but now Rey doesn’t see that irritating arrogance he’s turned into an art form. She only sees how defined and elegant his features are, how she could get lost into that dark gaze of his, how soft and kissable his lips seem. There’s a sort of haze around him that excites her senses to the point where her reason can just cower in a corner and wait for the storm to pass.

She squirms uncomfortably in her seat and the corners of Ben’s mouth lift slightly. Damn it. Nothing ever escapes him. He’s the best Keeper the Ravenclaw team has ever had – perhaps the best Keeper any team has ever had, which allowed Ravenclaw to win the Quidditch cup three years in a row.

She’s still bitter about that, especially given how the final played out. She’ll give him hell for it, but he can take it.

He raises an eyebrow. She recognises it for what it is. _Tonight?_

Tonight she’s got the last meeting of the year with the Wise Witches Society and it’ll probably end late. If she returns to Gryffindor Tower after midnight, Poe won’t snitch, but he’ll notice, and he might tell Finn, and then Finn will tell Rose, and that’s a huge mess waiting to happen before graduation.

Rey bites her lip and tilts her head a little to the right. _Tomorrow._

Tomorrow, then. She can’t wait longer than that. There’s no time left to wait for anything.


	2. Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not updating as fast as I'd like, but this is slowly but surely turning into a behemoth because holy shit, Reylo + Hogwarts AU = ultimate nerdgasm. I hope the length of the chapters makes up for the wait ;)

All day, it’s all she can think about.

The hours drag by incredibly slowly. Even though the seventh years have completed their NEWTs they’re still expected to attend class, but most teachers seem to have given up any pretence of requiring anything from them. They chat pleasantly and share bits of useful knowledge with those still interested, happy to leave the rest alone as long as they don’t cause any trouble.

Rey  has never been very good at Potions, and now that she’s done working like a demon to get an Exceeds Expectations on her exam, she’s perfectly content with occupying her seat and keeping her mouth shut. Professor Slughorn likes her well enough, but she’s got neither the talent nor the connections to be of any  real  interest to him. It might be more fun if Finn and Poe hadn’t skipped class, but they’re off playing the time-honoured game of making Argus Filch chase them around in a pointless attempt to maintain discipline. 

Why doesn’t he just give up? Maybe he thinks this will impress the younger students, who still worry about their record and what will happen next year. A part of Rey wishes she still cared. It was easier to keep some part of her obsession in check when her mind was otherwise crowded with homework and due dates and Quidditch matches. Now the only thing tethering her is her body, her stupid, blind, ravenous body that keeps steering her thoughts where it shouldn't. 

The wait is torture, but at the same time she’s glad for it, because she knows that by the time she meets him tonight she’ll be so wound up that it’ll be impossible to drag things out, and getting straight to the point gives her an illusion of control. He’s had enough practise to know exactly how to make her unravel, though she’s always ashamed when she thinks about what he sees of her in that moment.

How many times have they done this? she wonders. Too many to count. She can remember when it started though – _the trophy room, end of fifth year_. She shakes her head. No, _before_ that, even. At the beginning of that same year, when they started electives. Ben takes Potions too, though he switched to a more advanced class in seventh year; Rey suspects that Slughorn had his eye on him from the start, because even though Ben moved to Britain from America with his mother when he was a boy, everyone has heard of his family, of their power and wealth, of their tortured but prestigious history. Not that it takes anything from Ben’s talent in Potions. He’s focused, thorough, meticulous to a fault.

_Thorough_. Exactly. He never stops until it’s just right. Rey uncrosses her legs, crosses them again, slumps her chin against her fist and stares at the blackboard behind Slughorn.

The beginning of fifth year, then. A crisp September day. She was sitting next to Finn and getting ready for their first Potions class, giddy with a strange sort of excitement, because they hadn’t stopped growing since they entered Hogwarts but now it suddenly felt as if they were older. They were allowed to brag about how they were so glad not to be taking History of Magic any more, and criticise the contents of the _Daily Prophet_ for being too mainstream, and be bored with going to Hogsmeade. They could raise their hands and expect the teacher to say “Now _that’s_ an interesting question” before digressing for ten minutes. It was thrilling to be jaded, and thrilling to be serious about the subjects they had chosen.

Students were filing in the room and Finn nudged Rey with his elbow. She looked away from the metallic tip she was adjusting on her quill to see Ben Solo taking a seat at the table opposite from theirs.

“I heard he made captain,” Finn whispered. “Can you believe it? An arrogant prick like him?”

Poe, who was sitting in front of them, shot them a grin over his shoulder and mouthed the word: _l_ _oser_. Rey giggled. Ravenclaw hadn’t won the Quidditch Cup since 1959, though Slytherin had only narrowly beat them in the semi-finals last year, and Poe was obviously persuaded that their losing streak would continue.

Served them right, Rey thought. She has nothing in particular against Ravenclaws, but Ben Solo was insufferable in every way.

When Professor Slughorn entered the classroom, they sat up a bit straighter and he immediately launched into rapid-fire explanations about the properties of syrup of hellebore.

“Can anyone tell me a potion in which it is commonly used?”

Ben’s hand shot up. “Draught of Peace, sir. It’s the last ingredient to add and the most difficult to dose correctly.”

“Excellent. Ten points to Ravenclaw. Open your books page 24 and get to work.”

Rey wrinkled her nose and looked over to Ben. He sounded like he had spent the entire summer learning his books by heart just to be able to show off. He glanced at her witheringly, then rolled up his sleeves.

Her heart gave a funny little lurch and her cheeks inexplicably grew hot. She turned away again, yet she couldn’t help but glance back at him. Had his arms always looked like… _that_? Upon closer inspection, his biceps seemed to strain slightly against his shirtsleeves. He must’ve had time to train between two study sessions.

“Rey, we need to start grinding the moonstone,” Finn said, startling her.

“Yeah, sure, on it.”

She got through the rest of the class ignoring Ben, and afterwards she rationalised that it had just been a fluke. That is, until the next Potions class, when he ran out of quill tips and leaned over the aisle to ask her for one and when she handed it to him and their fingers touched, her stomach flipped.

From that point on, she couldn’t stop noticing little details that would niggle at her constantly. The way he kept pushing a strand of hair that fell on his forehead. The way he bit his lip when he adjusted the flame under the cauldron. His broad shoulders and his large hands – a perfect build for a Keeper. She was disgusted at her own thoughts; what would Finn and Poe say if they found out? Around that time, she had also started hanging out with Rose. All of three of them despised what Ben stood for: wealth, privilege, pureblooded vanity. And Rey hated it too, with good reason. How could she fantasize about someone she detested so much?

She still doesn’t have the answer to that question. There are times when she thinks she’s never hated anyone more. Other times she thinks she’ll never see him again after they graduate and it leaves her breathless with anguish. Most of the time, though, she’s in no state to think at all.

“Well, that’s the end of class,” Slughorn announces, “and the end of Potions for most of you, though I have no doubt we’ll see each other again when the time comes.”

As the other students rise to leave, Rey realises this is the last time she sat through a Potions class. She’ll never again trace her finger over the carvings on the table, or take out her book, or wish Slughorn wasn’t so chatty because it’s a nightmare to take notes. She’s not sad, but it does remind her that this is all this week will ever be – lasts, one after the other.

She doesn’t have time to linger on it, though. It’ll be dinner soon and she has to figure out how she’ll slip away afterwards without raising suspicions. The library has always served as a good excuse, but she can hardly say she’s going to study now.

Instead, she goes for the next best thing: hanging around the Gryffindor common room reading a novel, acting grumpy when Finn and Poe come and bug her, then waiting until they’re sufficiently distracted – that’s not too hard, since Poe has many admirers amongst the sixth year girls who just love hearing him blather on about politics. That’s when she slips out, hoping that by the time they realise she’s gone, they’ll think she’ll have turned in for the night. And if they’re still up when she returns… well, she can always say she popped out because she needed to talk to Rose about something.

_Something_. That’s as far as logic will take her, because as she climbs the steps up to the deserted supply closet next to the Astronomy Tower, everything starts to blur and take on a surreal quality.

Everything but him.

Ben is waiting for her, leaning against an empty shelf, wearing jeans and a white tee-shirt. Dusky moonlight is filtering through a small window, enough to drown the small room in pearly blue. She’s dumbstruck by his handsomeness, his massive frame, the half-smile he grants her before taking her hand and pulling her to him.

Rey sinks into him, his mouth, his chest, his arms – Merlin, those arms, they’re even stronger now, capable of carrying her as if she weighed nothing - and he barely manages to murmur a few words against her lips.

“I didn’t know if you’d make it.”

It gives her a thrill of pleasure to imagine him waiting, worrying, longing for her. If they were anything else than what they are, she’d tell him the truth: that nothing could’ve stopped her, because this is the end, and every minute she’s not kissing him feels like a waste.

“It wasn’t easy, so you had better make it worth my while,” she replies playfully.

He gives a little laugh and tightens his grip around her waist so he can spin her around and slam her against the shelf. When his arousal grinds against her, the gnawing emptiness in her core becomes unbearable. “Don’t I always?” 

As their kisses grow more heated, he squeezes her breast through her top, then travels down her stomach to the edge of her cut-off shorts. Rey throws back her head, allowing him to trail his tongue on the curve of her neck, but his fingers hover maddeningly above her waistband. She usually puts up a front of hesitating, saying she _doesn’t know if they should_ , and he enjoys convincing her. But her desire has swelled to such proportions that it is bursting at the seams, demanding to be attended to right away, nagging at her so painfully that she emits a groan and grabs his wrist to shove his hand down her shorts.

“Right now?” he pants, surprised.

She gives a small, desperate nod. If he makes her ask for it, she’ll push him away and leave. She won’t. She’ll beg. He must know that, or if he doesn’t, he can figure it out well enough when he feels how easily his fingers are sliding against her.

He doesn’t make her ask. He says nothing, presses further and harder, again and again, and she cries out against her palm.


	3. Wednesday

“She’s got a huge crush on you, you know.”

Poe takes a swig of water and hands the bottle over to Rey. Finn raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about?”

Above them, some of the Gryffindor players are tossing a quaffle around. The three of them decided to join in just for fun; this isn’t a real practise session, and no one has bothered to put on uniforms. In fact, Rose and two other Hufflepuffs played along for a while before retreating on the bleachers to watch them and enjoy the afternoon sunshine.

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t notice?” Poe laughs. “Rey, tell him.”

“Not getting involved,” Rey replies. Rose has sworn her to secrecy on this, and she’ll be damned if she betrays her trust.

“Rose and I are just good friends, that’s all,” Finn says.

“No, _we’re_ just good friends. I don’t spend my time looking at you as if you were box of Honeydukes toffees.”

“You’re nuts. And even if that were the case...”

Rey takes a swig of water but she’s curious to hear the rest. Rose has forbidden her from asking Finn how he feels about her, but if he offers up that information freely, it’s fair game.

“School is ending in three days. What could possibly happen between us?”

“Are you joking? You can fool around plenty in three days, believe me.”

Finn glances at Rose up in the bleachers, gives her a little wave, then takes the bottle from Rey to splash his forehead. “I think the heat has gotten to your head. Rose isn’t that kind of girl.”

What kind? Rey wonders. Is  _she_ that kind of girl?  No, she must be even worse, given who she’s fooled around with. 

“When will you finally free your mind of these artificial constructs?” Poe sighs. “We all know how harmful it is when a person is forced to repress their magical abilities. Why should it be any different for natural human impulses like physical desire? It’s 1969. It’s about time we let go of all these rules and regulations.”

“Spoken like a true Hogwarts prefect,” Rey notes.

“I didn’t accept the role of prefect to enforce the law. I accepted because I wanted to be a spokesperson for my fellow students.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” says Finn, picking up his broom, “but you can save your speech for the girls you bring to the greenhouse after hours.”

They’re about to join in the game again when Rey spots a small group of players entering the pitch.  _Ben_ . She swallows hard. 

As the Ravenclaws walk towards them, Kaydel, the Gryffindor Seeker  who’s almost certainly going to be nominated captain , flies down to the ground.

“Is there a problem?” she asks Poe.

“Just the usual. Thank your lucky stars you won’t have to deal with him next year.”

Ben and Rey’s gazes meet and she thinks she can see the shadow of a smile on his lips for a split second, but then he defaults to his haughty demeanour.

“Would you mind making some space for us?” he asks. 

“Pitch is taken,” Finn says testily.

Ben isn’t fazed, and swings his broom over his shoulder in one swift movement. The edge of his tee-shirt lifts slightly, revealing the fine trail of hair on his toned stomach that leads down under his jeans, and it takes every bit of self-control Rey can muster not to stare at it.

“This isn’t a formal practice. You’re just tossing the ball around.”

“You snooze, you lose, Solo,” Poe says with a smug grin. “We were here at three.”

Ben lifts an eyebrow. “Before the end of class?”

“Chill, man, in three days we’ll be out of here. Time to pull out the second broom you have stuck in your arse.”

Ben advances on him. Poe’s grin evaporates and he squares his shoulders. Rey drops her broom and grabs his arm to hold him back.

“Leave it, Poe! Let’s just split the pitch.”

“She’s right, he’s not worth it,” Finn says. “Come on.”

Poe and Ben glare at each other before moving to opposite sides of the pitch. Rey holds on to Poe’s arm but he’s not done being pissed off.

“I remember a time when you would’ve been the one to punch him,” he mutters.

“That was years ago. Now I know that the satisfaction of hitting him isn’t worth the hour I’ll spend in McGonagall’s office being lectured.”

“Still,” Poe replies as he mounts his broom, smiling now, “it’ll always be one of my fondest Hogwarts memories.”

Rey returns his smile and lifts off. She’ll never forget it either, though perhaps for a different reason. It had happened in April of her fifth year, with more or less the same situation: the Gryffindors had booked the pitch but the Ravenclaws had argued that the Gryffindors had had three practices that week whereas they’d had just one, owning to the awful weather. She supposes Ben wanted to establish his authority as captain, and he’d shown up in the middle of their practise with his entire team.

“It’s our turn on the pitch,” he’d told them. “It’s as simple as that. Don’t think I’ll go crying to Madame Hooch to make you leave, I’m more than capable of doing that on my own.”

At the time the Gryffindor captain was Richard Carter, who was in seventh year. He was a barrel-chested Beater and one of the nicest, most easy-going guys Rey had ever met, though he was so fearless on the pitch that he and Madame Pomfrey were practically on a first-name basis. “Cool it, Solo, there’s no need for a fight.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want a broken nose to spoil that pretty face of yours,” Poe taunted him.

Ben gripped the handle his broom a little tighter. “This is just like you Gryffindors,” he spat out. “You think you’re hot shit but just because you won the Quidditch cup last year, doesn’t mean the entire school should roll out the red carpet for you.”

“Well just because you’ve keep losing it, doesn’t mean you can come and whine to get what you want,” Rey countered.

“Look, Johnson,” Ben sneered, “I know you’re vying for captain next year, so you might want to work on other muscles than your mouth for a change.”

“What did you say to me?”

“You want it plain and simple? Fine. You fly like a Muggleborn first year.”

It was common for teams to talk trash at each other, but far more rare for them to actually come to blows. After Rey had launched herself at Ben, throwing them both down on the muddy ground and managing to land a punch on his jaw, she’d gotten not only a telling-off from McGonagall but from Carter as well, who had suspended her from the team for the next match. She’d also gotten a week of evening detention, cleaning up the trophy room with Ben, who at least had gotten into a bit of trouble himself.

That first evening, they’d worked in silence, sitting side by side. Rey was agitated, not because she was still furious, but because being so close to Ben was an uncomfortable reminder of the hours she’d spent glancing his way while trying to glance anywhere else in Potions class. It simply wasn’t fair for someone so detestable to be so attractive.

“If you’re mad at me, just go ahead and have at it,” he grumbled, startling her.

“What are you talking about?” she retorted, annoyed.

“I’d rather you say what’s on your mind rather than giving me the death glare for two hours.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Since you’re so smart, maybe you can figure it out for yourself.”

Ben stopped rubbing one of the many plaques they were assigned to polish. “Are you seriously trying to insult me by telling me I’m smart? Typical Gryffindor.”

“Will you stop with this fixation on Gryffindors?" she exclaimed. "Seriously, what have we ever done to you?”

He hesitated for a moment and started rubbing the plaque again. “Gryffindors run this school and everyone knows it. If you’re too studious, you’re a nerd. If you’re too ambitious, you’re a psychopath. If you’re too nice, you’re a pushover. But being _too brave_? Has anyone ever given you shit for that?”

She snorted and started furiously scrubbing again, but he wasn’t done.

“And Merlin, you are so into your own personal mythology. _Professor Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor._ So what? Does that mean every single Gryffindor is an exceptional human being?” He shook his head. “It’s just too easy for you.”

“It’s easy for me? Are you kidding? You were born with everything. I was born with _nothing_. I was shipped around from one foster family to the next before I got a letter from Hogwarts. I never knew my parents. I didn’t even know I was a witch.”

“I wasn’t born with everything. I knew I was a wizard all right, because no one ever let me forget for a single second the great power I was supposed to have inherited. And sometimes I wish I didn’t know my parents, rather than knowing what I know about them.”

Rey bit her lip. At that moment, Ben didn’t seem like an arrogant prick. He seemed like someone who felt things deeply and took great pains to hide it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t...” She sighed. “It was wrong of me to hit you.”

“I would’ve hit me too,” Ben said, setting the burnished plaque aside. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Did you really mean it?”

He looked up at her, locking his gaze with hers. “No.”

Rey’s heart knocked painfully against her chest. Every nerve in her body seemed aware at how close he was sitting, and how very alone they were.

He glanced away, then back at her again, his expression unreadable. “Do you want us to kiss?”

Rey felt like she’s collided with a goalpost mid-flight. “What?”

“We can kiss if you want,” he repeated, a slight tinge of red on the tip of his ears. “I mean, we’re pretty much done for the evening and there’s no one around, so...”

“But - we _hate_ each other.”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

It didn’t. Neither of them had any idea what they were doing and fumbled through, but it was also the most intensely satisfying sensation Rey had ever experienced. It was like their mouths were two halves of something broken that were made to fit together. The scent of Ben’s skin, the heat radiating from his chest, the taste of his lips, all of it had whipped her in such a frenzy that she’d found it impossible to sleep that night.

Without ever verbally agreeing to it, or talking about it, or setting any rules in place, they had done it again the next evening, and the evening after that, and all through the week of detention. Rey figured that it would be like eating too much candy: she would inevitably get sick of it after a while and things would go back to normal. Instead the exact opposite happened. More and more was never enough. 

Two years later and she’s no closer to finding an exit strategy. Instead an exit is coming at her head-on. Now that she has no choice, she’s not sure what she would choose if she could.

Rey flies lazily in mid-air and observes Ben far away on the pitch. Does he think about it as often as she does? Does he remember all the details of the first time they kissed? Does the pitch remind him of all the times they met under the bleachers and made out until they were left breathless and aching? Does he replay in his head what happened in the locker room after the Quidditch final?

What would he choose, if he could?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No naughty stuff in this chapter, but the next might warrant a rating change :P Thanks to everyone who left kudos or commented <3


	4. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been changed to E just to be safe.

Rose bites into her buttered toast and gives a heavy sigh, staring off into the distance.

“It’s a little bit early to be so melancholy,” Rey says, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe tomorrow’s your last day,” Rose replies. “It’s going to be so weird without you here. Promise you’ll write?”

Rey grins and helps herself to more tea. “Of course. The school year will go by in a flash, you’ll see.”

Rose sighs again and looks over at the Gryffindor table, where Poe and Finn are sitting with some of the Quidditch players. “Kaydel’s going to be captain next year, right?”

“Definitely. She works out like a beast and she’s all about team spirit. They couldn’t ask for a better pick.”

“Good. No one knows who’s going to take Solo’s place and I need someone to help me deal with Hux.”

Rey groans in comiseration. Ben told her in passing that he thought Divya Patil would make a fine captain but she can’t tell Rose that, of course. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Rose shakes her head, taking another bite out of her toast. “Creaothceann, seriously? He is _such_ a blockhead.” She gulps and leans closer with a little smile. “But actually… I think he’s sort of cute since he started growing out his hair last year. You know, for a blockhead.”

Rey’s jaw drops. This is unacceptable. Rose is much more level-headed than she is. She’s _not that kind of girl_. She can’t have a crush on Armitage Hux, of all people. There has to be some semblance of sanity left in the world. “I thought you fancied Finn!”

“Shhhh!” Rose hisses, glancing around, then lowers her voice. “I do. You know I do. But let’s face it, nothing’s ever going to happen with Finn.”

“You don’t know that. You guys are such close friends already. You’d be perfect together. ”

They would, and if they dated, then Rey would be reminded that there is such a thing as a normal relationship and forget about the frantic struggles that go on in supply closets.

“In a lot of ways, yes, but in other ways, not so much,” Rose says evenly. “Sometimes I feel like we freak him out when we start talking about politics and changing the world and whatnot. He’s not passionate about it like Poe, or me… or Hux. Say what you will about him but he has convictions and he fights for them.”

They are mercifully interrupted in this conversation by a flutter of owl overhead. One of them swoops down and drops thick envelope right into Rey’s lap. She looks at the header and instantly feels like she’s about to throw up her cereal. _Ministry of Magic – Auror Department._

“Shit. Shit. It’s here.”

Rose’s eyes widen. “Bloody hell. Open it!”

“I can’t. We said we’d do it together. I wonder if -”

At that moment, she sees Finn and Poe racing towards the Hufflepuff table. That answers her question.

“Did you get it?” Finn asks, breathless.

“Yes. Okay. Let’s calm down. We open on three, all right?”

“ _Onetwothree_ ,” Poe says, and tears at the envelope.

There’s a moment of silence when all of them are reading their letters, then look up at each other. When they all realise they’re holding back in case one of them wasn’t accepted, Finn gives a loud whoop and Rey squeals with joy, turning to hug Rose then jumping up to give her friends a high-ive over the table. But when she checks the letter again to make sure she didn’t misread, she feel a pang of bitterness.

_If we were both in the training programme..._

No. She won’t let it spoil this moment. She’s worked too hard to get here.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” Poe exclaims. “The three of us in Auror training! This is going to call for some massive celebrating tomorrow night.”

“Congratulations,” Rose says, clapping happily. “That’s amazing!”

“August 1st,” Finn reads on the letter. “It starts in a month. Damn, I can’t wait!”

“I’m not letting you get flabby in the meantime,” Poe says, fake-punching him in the gut.

They monkey around loudly until Rose jokingly reminds them it’s her duty as a prefect to tell them to knock it off, and they’ll all be late for the first class of the day if they don’t hurry.

As they exit the Great Hall, Rey glances over at the Ravenclaw table. Ben is sitting alone, reading the newspaper, seemingly oblivious. He may as well be in another dimension.

Poe and Finn leave for Transfiguration, Rose heads for Herbology, and Rey hurries to get to Charms, her favourite subject. She’s just about to reach the staircase when she hears a voice behind her.

“So. Did you get in?”

Ben is standing a few feet away, holding his folded newspaper. She stops, leaving her hand on the bannister, unwilling to turn fully towards him. “I did. Poe and Finn too.”

“I guessed as much.”

He heard them. How could he not, they were so loud. Then why is he asking her? He slaps the newspaper nervously against his thigh, avoiding her gaze.

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?” he blurts out.

Rey frowns. “Yeah, of course.”

Is he about to ask her to go with him? A glimmer of hope pushes it way through, but Ben only nods absently. “So do you still want us to meet tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she replies, trying to keep her tone light, but it rings hollow.

The letter. He’s aware of what the letter reminded her of, and he’s afraid it might make her change her mind.

Humiliated, she turns away and blinks back furious tears. He’s just poured salt on a wound that’s not yet done healing. The memory is still so fresh she can’t help but dive back into it, when they were lying on the floor of the locker room under Rey’s cape, their muscles trembling, their faces flushed, reeling from what they’d just done.

As soon as the daze wore off, panic crept up on the edge of her mind. What if Ben got up and left, telling her it was a mistake? But he did nothing of the sort. He cradled her in his arms, fiddling with strands of her hair and gently kissing her forehead. It was the first time he’d been so tender, so calm.

“Where will you be next year?” he asked after a while.

“Hopefully in Auror training. I can’t really see myself anywhere else, honestly.”

“You’ve been talking about becoming an Auror for so long. I think you mentioned it the very first time we had Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”

She felt giddy that he recalled something that had happened so long ago. Was it possible that he’d noticed her from the start?

“If that fails, I guess I can always try out for a Quidditch team,” she continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Quidditch, but I don’t see myself making a career out of it.”

“I get what you mean. I feel the same.”

_I feel the same._ The words went straight from her ears to her heart. “What are _you_ going to do, then?”

He stared at the ceiling, idly tracing a finger on her spine. “Honestly? I don’t know. I could always go back to the States and get a job at the Ministry there or something. It wouldn’t be hard with my family connections. Although I thought about becoming an Auror too.”

The idea of him leaving Britain was like a cold gust of wind passing over her. She curled up against his warm chest. “You never said.”

“My mother and her twin brother were Aurors,” he explained. “They were both top students when they were at Ilvermorny. She was a Horned Serpent, and he was a Thunderbird. Mom was pleased when I was sorted into Ravenclaw. My father, less so. He would’ve prefered Gryffindor, of course.”

“What house was he in?”

“Wampus. He was my uncle’s best friend at school and they got into all sorts of trouble together. The problem is, he spent his life getting into trouble, and it doesn’t do when your parents are on opposite sides of the law.”

Rey propped herself up on her elbow and stroked the fine black hair curling on his temples. “Why don’t you stay here? Far away from all that drama?”

“That’s probably the reasonable thing to do.”

“As for becoming an Auror… I mean, the training programme is pretty selective and applications are due this week, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I guess not.”

She could feel him tensing up, but she couldn’t stop herself. If she didn’t tell him now, when would she get another chance?

“If we were both in the training programme...”

_We could be together. We could forget about all about house rivarly and house points and Quidditch cups. I could kiss you and you could take me in your arms and we could hold hands and it wouldn’t matter who saw us._

He shrugged. “Yeah, but if it’s so selective like you said, there’s not a great chance of that happening.”

He didn’t physically push her away. He didn’t have to. His words were like a gate closing shut, leaving her to bang stupidly against it to be let in.

She sat up and quickly put her bra and panties back on, ashamed now of her nakedness. They’d never talked about it again. In fact, they hadn’t talked about anything much since. Rey had resolved not to meet him anymore, but that lasted about a week before she’d gone stir crazy and gave in. She kept expecting Ben to proposition her, but he seemed fine with resuming their previous arrangement.

Rey knows why he’s holding out. There’s nothing Ben hates more than letting his guard down, though he certainly doesn’t mind when she does. On the contrary, it spurs him on to see her melt, to have her gasp and purr his name and clench around his fingers. He keeps back, and she chases the high, night after night. It’s exhausting and infuriating, and she feels that she has to do something about it even if it’s too late.

That evening, she takes him in her mouth for the first time.

When she breaks their kiss after only a minute to unbutton his jeans and drops to her knees, he gapes at her in shock.

“What are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer but starts working him with her hands. There’s something alarming about what she’s about to do – the logistics alone are a well of uncertainty – but she needs this. She needs to shed every remain of the silly little girl she’s been, with her big plans and her secret wishes and her infatuation. She’s still here but she might as well be gone, and in forty-eight hours he’ll be gone too. This way, at least, he’ll remember.

“Do you want this?” she asks him, looking up at him.

He closes his eyes for a moment, battling to regain his footing, but she swipes her tongue on his length and he shudders. “Yes. Yes, I want it.”

Giving him head is both arduous and uncomplicated. Except for that time in the locker room, Ben has never reacted like this to anything they’ve done. He throws his head back, moaning, lids half-closed, clutching the edge of a shelf so tight his knuckles turn white.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans. “Rey...”

She doesn’t let up, increasing the rhythm. She’s intoxicated by the sight of him losing control. This is exactly what she’d hoped to do: break him. Shatter that handsome, polished veneer, have him disheveled and helpless.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

She stops and stands up. It would be too cruel to just leave him there, so she finishes with her hand instead. He curses loudly as his hips jerk up and spurts of hot liquid spill onto his stomach.

Rey steps back a little, giving him time to settle his breath. Her fingers are sticky and she has nowhere to wipe them clean, so she just stands there with her hand in mid-air as if she’s about to wave.

Ben takes off his tee-shirt to wipe himself down and tosses it to her.

“If Filch catches you shirtless in the hallways, that’ll be a whole new level of disturbing,” she says with a little laugh.

“I know how to avoid him, no worries. We still have time, though.”

He grabs her wrist and pulls her to him. Rey holds back. “I have to get back.”

“So soon? What’s the rush?” He strokes the thin, sensitive skin at the base of her palm with his thumb. “I feel it’s only fair if I reciprocate.”

Rey almost falters. Ben is never one to be outdone, and she’d be annoyed if she weren’t nearly out of her mind with want at the idea of him going down on her. But then what? She’d be reduced to a whining, blubbering mess and he’d have the upper hand again. Once, just once, she’d like to win.

“Maybe another day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I didn't start out this fic with the intent to torture these two idiots, but here we are. Thanks as always for the feedback, it is much appreciated <3


	5. Friday

“I’m serious, man. It’s all total bullshit.”

Poe is holding the neck of the bottle of Firewhiskey like a microphone and he looks like he’s about to launch into a serious tirade even though he’s clearly toeing the fine line between tipsy and hammered. Usually Rey would tell him to pace himself, but tonight anything goes. The seventh years get the Room of Requirement to themselves on their last night at Hogwarts, an unofficial tradition that is tolerated by the staff with the understanding that they don’t cause any trouble anywhere else, and the Room has transformed itself to look like a party inside someone’s house, if the living room were big enough to hold all of their promotion. No one is in uniform. Muggle records play on a turntable. For one blissful moment, Rey reflects, they can almost forget where they are.

Almost. Ben is standing a little further away, talking to two Slytherins, and their eyes meet across the room. She grabs the bottle of Firewhiskey from Poe and takes a long swig.

“You’re saying the entire system that our school rests upon is _bullshit_?” Finn asks.

“Think about it,” Poe continues. “You’ve got all those little eleven year-old kiddies, some of which have known for just a few weeks that they have magical powers, and you sit them down on a stool in front of the entire goddamn school, and they’re expected to make what will be a decision that will shape the rest of their lives. It makes no sense from an educational point of view.”

“It’s not really a decision,” Rey counters. “I mean, the Hat pretty much decides for you.”

“I disagree. Not always. I mean, all right, you and I...”

Poe swings his arm around Rey’s shoulders and kisses her cheek. She doesn’t make anything of it. When Poe is drunk, he’ll try his luck with just about anyone. She wonders if Ben has seen them.

“Yes, yes, the Hat took about two seconds to sort you both into Gryffindor,” Finn says.

“But it wasn’t the case for you, man, which is exactly my point,” Poe replies, poking Finn’s chest before taking the bottle back. “The Hat told you it was either Gryffindor or Slytherin, and it took you almost five minutes to choose.”

“Yeah, because there is a part of me that’s Slytherin, the part that knows that sometimes you have to fend for yourself to survive, and do what it takes to thrive.”

“Exactly. And if someone asked you to choose today, maybe you wouldn’t make the same decision because you know yourself better and you’re not just choosing Gryffindor because everyone said it’s the best and yadda yadda yadda.”

“Well, Rose was a hat stall too and _she_ didn’t choose Gryffindor.”

“Rose has more balls than any of us,” Rey says. “She doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and that’s why she chose Hufflepuff.”

And indeed, if Rose wasn’t a fierce individualist and genuine to a fault, she wouldn’t have told Rey with disarming honesty that she thought Hux was cute.

Finn and Rose weren’t real hat stalls, though, at least not compared to Ben. The Hat sat on his head for ten full minutes before finally sorting him into Ravenclaw. Rey never asked him what choices the Hat had presented him with. She wants to believe he could’ve easily been sorted into Slytherin, but there is an unmistakable streak of Gryffindor in him as well. Poe’s right. How different things would’ve been if he’d made another decision.

She remembers how impressed she was with him during the Sorting ceremony, this dark and sullen boy who blushed to the tip of his ears when the Ravenclaws applauded raucously. Everything around her seemed covered in a sheen of glossy perfection, as if she was seeing in colour for the first time after spending her childhood in a black and white world. She wanted to be friends with everyone, and couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t want the same.

_That’s stupid. Girls can’t play._

She shakes her head and smothers the memory with another swig of whiskey. She glances around but she can’t spot Ben. Did he leave? She can't look for him now. What if he left with someone? The bottle is hers again. 

At some point, the alcohol makes her lose track of time. She dances and talks and dances some more, and then Poe disappears for a while, she sits on the floor with Finn and lays her head down on his lap willing the ceiling to stop spinning, then Poe returns, grinning, his curls in a mess, how long was he away? Someone hands her a cup of Butterbeer and she downs the entire thing in one go and then she sees Ben, talking with other people, not so far away from her, and he looks at her like he’s looked at her so many times just before they ended up somewhere alone, scratching the itch in any way they can. If only she were one of these girls who flips her hair and smiles mysteriously and always leaves the guy wanting more, then maybe…

_That’s stupid. Girls can’t play._

She suddenly feels like crying. Instead she laughs. Maybe Ben just wants her to blow him again. What time is it anyway?

“Three a.m,” Finn says.

She wasn’t aware she had asked aloud. Poe isn’t anywhere to be seen. The bottle is now empty.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she blurts out, stomach roiling as she tries to steady herself enough to stand up.

“Hang on, let me help you.”

“No, no, I just… I just need some air.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m going back to Gryffindor anyway. I’m beat.”

“Okay. I won’t be long either. Merlin knows where Poe has gone but I’m guessing he won’t emerge until tomorrow morning.”

Rey takes Finn’s hand and squeezes it. It makes her feel a bit more grounded, and she manages to walk more or less in a straight line towards the door.

The cool and quiet of the corridors act like a balm, and her stomach starts to settle. She strolls over to the bay window and presses her forehead against the deliciously cold glass, looking over the moonlit landscape outside.

Her eyes linger on the stretch of lawn between the greenhouse and the Quidditch pitch. There she sat with Finn in the September sunshine, at the start of their second year, and the memory is so clear it’s like it happened yesterday. She was blabbering on about how excited she was for the Quidditch tryouts, how she’d practised all summer when staying with the nice wizarding family who had taken her in so she would have a place to stay.

“I’m sure we’ll both make the team,” she told Finn. “I’m trying out for Chaser, how about you?”

“That’s stupid,” a red-headed first year in a Slytherin uniform sneered. He was sitting nearby with a few of his friends and they were sniggering at them. Hux, of course, though she didn’t know him at the time. “Girls can’t play.”

“Excuse me?” Rey said in disbelief. 

“It’s just a fact. Girls can’t play, and especially not Muggleborns.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

The Ravenclaw boy with dark hair –  _Ben Solo_ , Rey knew his name now – had been reading alone a little further away but had now closed his book and was glaring at the  group of Slytherins . 

“Who asked you?” the redhead spat. 

“No one. And they didn’t ask you either, so shut it, twerp.”

The  boys stood up and advanced on Ben, but when he stretched out  to face them , he towered over them in such a way that they retreated,  muttering amongst themselves.

“Hey,” Rey called out, and jumped up to join him. “Hey, thanks, that was really nice of you!”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, putting his book back in his bag.

“Do you play Quidditch too? Are you trying out for your team?”

Ben regarded her coldly. “ None of your business. ”

Then he turned away, and Rey had decided right there and then  to hate  Ben Solo forever.

Rey’s gaze travel s  further, to the Quidditch pitch in the distance.  Forty yards and five years later.  By then she was willing to damn herself for him. In a sense she had. 

The  Quidditch final had been brutal. Sheets of rain were pouring down that day and they were soaked by the time they were up in the air. Rey and Finn had done everything they could to score, and Poe had whacked the Bludgers so hard he’d almost dislocated his shoulder. But they had only been able to get three balls past Ben, with their own Keeper cracking under the relentless pressure of the Ravenclaw Chasers. They had scored a hundred and eighty points in total before Kaydel caught the Snitch to end the slaughter and save Gryffindor’s honour. But it was a small consolation. As Rey flew back down to land in the mud, the Ravenclaws had poured out of the bleachers and onto the field, cheering their team,  touching the cup that was theirs for the third year in a row , hoisting  their captain on their shoulders. 

Rey had seen Ben win before. This time was different. His exultation was almost animalistic. His muscles, visible under his rain-soaked tunic, were still taut from the intense effort and his face radiated with such joy that it looked more like anger.

She had never loathed him so much. She had never wanted him so much.

Her team had tried to comfort her  as they retreated to the locker rooms ,  disgruntled as they were themselves. It wasn’t her fault. They’d put up a good fight. They’d trained hard and done the best they could. All of this was true. None of it mattered. 

By the time she’d finally exited the shower after standing under the jets of hot water for thirty minutes, only Kaydel was left in the girls’ locker room. She’d smiled but Rey could tell she was uncomfortable. After all, her mission now was to do a better job than Rey had.

“Go on ahead,” Rey told her. “I still have to get dressed. I’ll meet you back in Gryffindor.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”

“I think I’d rather be alone for a little while and get my head together. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

Kaydel smiled again and left the locker ro om. Rey was in no hurry to return to Gryffindor Tower. The guys had secured Firewhiskey for what they had hoped would be a victory party, but even in the absence of victory, there was no doubt they wouldn’t abstain from drinking it. A hangover was the last thing she needed right now on top of everything else. 

She was about to put on her jeans when she heard a noise right outside the door. “Kaydel?” she called.

The door swung open. Ben was standing in front of her. Speechless with shock, she stared at him for a second. He was back in his regular clothes but his hair was still wet, either from the rain or the shower, she wasn’t sure. Had he been waiting in the boys’ locker room all this time? Or had he slipped away from the celebrations in the Ravenclaw common room and come back?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice trembling, though the answer was obvious to both of them.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Rey didn’t answer. Ben took his wand out of his back pocket and locked the door, then stalked towards Rey and circled her waist with his arm  to pull her to him. 

It was as if a dam had broken,  releasing all the belligerent ardo u r that they’d built up during the match . They kissed with an urgency that left them breathless  and shaking, hands fumbling madly  to rid themselves of their clothing. Rey didn’t have much on – just a tee-shirt, bra and panties – but even that was too much,  and she almost  tore her top in her haste to get rid of it  before tugging Ben’s shirt off. He trailed  his lips down her neck,  pressing his arousal roughly against her,  and a loud moan escaped from her throat. 

“Where?” Ben panted. 

Rey broke away just long enough to grab the large towel she’d used to dry off and spread it on the floor. She lay down and watched him take off his jeans before joining her. Her desire had crushed any feeling of doubt and fear to small particles floating inside her mind, easy to dissipate. There was nothing else now that a burning need to have Ben inside of her, to know at last what it would feel like after imagining it for so long.

He was forcing himself to take it slow,  or at least as slow as he could manage , Rey could tell. He undid her bra and  sucked ravenously at her nipples while his hand slid down her stomach  and started inching the band of her panties down .  He needn’t have bothered.  Rey was ready. More than ready. She had soaked through  the fine cotton cloth and  he could’ve ripped it away for all she cared .

T he pain had been searing, but it was soon lost in an overwhelming swell of sensation. It was just like lifting off from the ground, careful and slow at first, then, once the fear of falling melted away, faster and higher, right until your heart was beating so hard it made you dizzy. She dug her fingers into his back, squeezed her eyes shut, begged for more, more, more, because it was so much yet not nearly enough. Ben was thrusting erratically in and out of her, crazed with his own arousal, until finally both of them managed to find release, and their cries echoed on the tiled walls. 

He hadn’t pulled away afterwards. He’d kissed her, deeply, gently, a kiss that was like telling someone you were theirs and they were yours. Then he’d taken her cape and draped them over both of them, a makeshift bed that made her feel safe and warm, for the first time and the last.

She’s replayed that scene in her head so many times that it almost feels like something that happened to someone else, like a movie of sorts. If she’s really so brave, if that bloody Sorting Hat didn’t make a mistake by putting her in Gryffindor, then why didn’t she tell Ben how she felt, and damn the consequences? She used her team’s reaction as an excuse, but deep down what frightened most was losing him. She’d rather have half a relationship with him than none at all. It makes her feel weak, and pathetic.

Rey hears footsteps behind her. She knows it’s him before she even turns around. He stops a few feet away, shoves his hands in his pockets, as if he wants to signify that he’s not here to fool around.

“Are you all right? I saw you leave.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” He exhales deeply. “Rey, listen, I -”

“Shut up. I need to tell you something.”

This is the last chance she has to overcome her fear, even if it’s too late. If she doesn’t do this, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.

“All right, but first I...”

“Will you just be quiet?” she snaps, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m only telling you this because I’m drunk and I’m sad and we will never see each other again after tonight. I love you. I love you, Ben, I love you and it drives me crazy, and when I think about you going back to America it’s like someone is ripping my heart out of my chest. But I’m also glad you are because that way it’ll be easier to get over you. There. That’s it.”

He looks at her, stunned, and she waits for a second – a second would be enough for him to take her hand, or say _I love you too_ , but he does none of those things and the last shards of hope shatter at her feet – before turning away and hurrying down the darkened corridor towards Gryffindor Tower.

By the time she gets there, her cheeks are wet and she’s sniffling pathetically, her hand against her nose. She’s a mess. Everything is a mess. She doesn’t even have a bloody handkerchief, something scented with lavender to hold against her as she weeps in the pale light of dawn. No love notes, no tokens of affection, no pictures, nothing to prove that her agony isn’t just something she made up.

She only has her memories now. When she leaves Hogwarts in a few hours, like everything else, they’ll start to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR I'M NOT GOING TO LEAVE IT LIKE THIS. Check the tags, the tags never lie. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, but real life got in the way. Next chapter won't take as long and it'll be from Ben's point of view, which I'm sure you'll all enjoy. Thanks as always to everyone who gave kudos or commented <3
> 
> (Also, if anyone's interested, I have a lot of thoughts about Hogwarts' sorting system. Poe's absolutely right, it doesn't make any sense. Eleven year olds are about to enter puberty, they have no idea who they're going to become. And come on, how is it that the four houses get an equal number of new students every damn year? What happens if there are twenty Hufflepuffs, one Slytherin and no Gryffindors or Ravenclaws? I'm pretty sure the Sorting Hat is just randomnly sorting people so that it evens out. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Venetum, who requested a Hogwarts AU where Ben and Rey are Quidditch captains who despise each other but have actually been together for years. This is my first HP/Star Wars crossover (actually my first crossover ever) and it's a blast. Hope you enjoy :)


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